(never entirely erased the stink, though-she must have one rank pussy),
So I killed a hobo today, honey . . . hahahaha! Ah, we have fun! Nick
four kids clambering up her, the smile was bigger, but hassled, and she was always leaning away from one of us. I picture her as constantly under siege by her children.
And I smell like fish.
Books may be temporary; dicks are forever.
I appreciate a straightforward apology the way a tone-deaf person enjoys a fine piece of music.
If I had a dick, I would fuck this peanut butter,
Thank you, Gillian Flynn, for quoting The Sure Thing- “Nick’s the kind of guy you can drink a beer with, the kind of guy who doesn’t mind if you puke in his car. Nick!
Mom, Dad, Baby, they were three advanced people with three advanced degrees in psychology-they thought more before nine A.M. than most people thought all month.
slowly, slowly pulling up. Or grabbing hold of Debby’s arm, vise-like, for an Indian rub and what starts as a joke gets more and more frantic, him rubbing until he draws speckles of blood, his teeth grinding. She could see him getting that same look Runner got when he was around the kids: jacked up and tense. “Dad needs to leave.